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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29212539">Trickle Down</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/truthinadvertising/pseuds/BadFicOnly'>BadFicOnly (truthinadvertising)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Goretober [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Imprisonment, Solitary Confinement, Water Torture (kinda)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:29:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29212539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/truthinadvertising/pseuds/BadFicOnly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Murtagh is sequestered away from Thorn as punishment, can he take it? </p><p>Goretober Prompt: Water</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Murtagh Morzansson &amp; Thorn (Inheritance Cycle)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Goretober [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2144754</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Trickle Down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Murtagh's eyes fluttered open blearily, cracking the blood that had dried around them, and took in his surroundings. The cell was dark, only faint light trickling in from the torchlight in the hallway leading to countless more of these suffocating cells. Everything was silent, except for that...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Murtagh shook his head which sent him into a swirl of vertigo, his stomach lurched, but when he rolled over to expel the contents he only dry heaved onto the stone floor. When Murtagh's head stopped spinning he realized he had only been able to roll over because he was not restrained. Not that it mattered, his limbs were heavy, he could see purple bruises covering the bare skin of his torso, and he was quite sure he had at least one broken rib. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He remembered the cause of this very clearly. Nothing he did ever pleased Galbatorix no matter how hard he tried to fulfill every one of his King's demands. Galbatorix had punished him enough times now that they all blended together. One beating, one round of torture, it was all the same, at the very least he was never far from...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Thorn?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He reached out with his mind, calling for the red dragon, But his probe found nothing, he heard nothing but for the...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Thorn!"</span>
  </em>
  <span> he yelled, using both his mind and his voice. Where could he be? He must be outside their range of contact. Galbatorix must have taken him far away. But where? And why? Thorn would never agree to leave the side of his partner of his heart and mind so he must have been forced. Was he alright? Had he been hurt? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Murtagh crawled to his feet, staggering forward and falling against the door, banging his fist on the iron-bound wood. The pounding unable to mask the steady...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He yelled out into the hallway. Shadows shifted but no one came. For a brief moment, he thought about forcing his way out with magic, blowing the door off its hinges, and charging his way to wherever Thorn was being held. But even as he prepared the spell he let it die away. Adrenaline coursing through his body was one thing but he knew he was too injured, didn't have the strength, for such a feat of destruction. This was probably why Galbatroix had not had him bound this time. He knew he was too weak to escape. A spell on that scale would kill him right now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Murtagh began pacing. Even though his body ached, and he couldn't fill his lungs all the way, and his head was pounding, he paced. Still frantically calling for Thorn even though he knew was the dragon would not respond. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What was the point of this? What was happening to his beloved partner? If Thorn was hurt for Murtagh failing to live up to expectations yet again he would never forgive himself. Galbatorix usually refrained from hurting Thorn physically, what good was a beat-up dragon? But there were plenty of other ways to torture a mind. Murtagh had come to know that intimately. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This went on for hours. Murtagh would wear himself out walking the length of the cell and pounding on the door, screaming for someone to come and get him. No one ever came. Murtagh would slide down the wall and pass out for some time, there was no way to tell in this pit, and then a heavy...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>DRIP</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...would wake him and the cycle would start all over again. He cried. There was no one to see his shame. To be parted from his bonded soul for this long was torture enough in itself. Murtagh would only be wracked with deeper jobs when he thought of Thorn trying to reach out to him, or worse, not being able to reach out at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next time he woke he was curled on the floor of the cell, tear tracks marked his cheeks and dried blood had flaked into his eyes. He whimpered and his body tremored. He couldn't take much more of this. At least now, it was blessedly quiet. At least until...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip. Drip. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Murtagh Screamed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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